


Almost Lost

by joonfired



Series: The Adventures of a Single Dad in Space [9]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Baby Yoda Hijinks, Baby Yoda loves his dad, Baby cuddles, Emotions, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hugs, I know 0.2 percent of Mandalorian culture, ManDadlorian, Mando gets a wake up call to be a better parent, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Canon, Protective Mandalorian, S1E5 Spoilers, Soft Mandalorian, Space Dad Mandalorian, Toro Calican was dead the moment he decided to threaten Baby Yoda, bless the existence of Peli Motto, just a ManDadlorian doing his best, single dad, the helmet comes off in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonfired/pseuds/joonfired
Summary: The Mandalorian realizes he's gotta be a better parent
Relationships: The Mandalorian & Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: The Adventures of a Single Dad in Space [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549036
Comments: 44
Kudos: 760





	Almost Lost

**Author's Note:**

> feels, angst, and a helmet removal

Beskar concealed the agony.

When the Mandalorian saw his child in the arms of that double-crossing fame grabber Toro Calican, he realized just how much it would hurt him if his small kid got hurt . . . or worse. And there would be very little left of Calican.

He held himself like a statue, following the cocky orders for the child. But he palmed a flash charge before raising his hands.

And in one flash, one shot, it was over. The child was safe once more.

But the Mandalorian had never felt more vulnerable.

He brushed aside the fussy ministrations of Peli as he scooped the child up from where it had fallen to the ground. The tiny thing curled so trusting in his arms, blinking up at him as if it hadn’t been in danger just a moment ago.

What if there wasn’t a leftover charge on his belt? What if Toro had shot first and asked questions later?

What if he’d been too late and the hunter had left, leaving the fate of the child unknown to him?

He couldn’t keep rescuing the child from situations like this. He couldn’t keep risking its life.

As the Mandalorian tended to the final repairs of his ship, paid Peli for her help and parts, and readied for departure, he felt trapped in his armor. The beskar felt tight and constricting, particularly around his chest as the past possibilities kept circling in his thoughts.

He flew out of Mos Eisley on auto-pilot, watching the control panels almost numbly. The child sat quietly on his lap, its curiosity dampened by the dried meat it was gnawing at with intense focus.

The Mandalorian had almost lost the child . . . again.

Suddenly, the filtration systems of his helmet seemed to be malfunctioning. His lungs beat against his ribs, which then strained against the confines of the beskar plating. The stars seemed to spin, his vision no longer able to focus onto a single point of solidity.

He reached frantically for the straps of his chest plating, startling the child. It made a soft, questioning sound that the Mandalorian could not answer right away. He needed to breathe before he could use words.

The beskar plating fell to the cockpit floor with a harsh, rattling clang. Air gusted cold against the damp linen material he wore underneath his armor, pricking his skin with miniscule shivers.

It still wasn’t enough. His breath came fast, too fast. His sensors blurred with the lights of the control panels, and all the years of functioning with the two displays was erased in this moment.

The Mandalorian turned and deposited the child in the make-shift seat he’d cobbled together for it. He felt dizzy now, and vaguely wondered if he’d been poisoned. The child still gripped the dried meat in one small claw, watching from its seat as he half-stumbled to the entrance hatch . . . no, that would take too long.

He leaned breathless against the wall, fumbling his helmet off his head. He did not set it down, but let it fall to the floor where it rolled away as he slid down the wall. His unfiltered breathing came harsh and ragged as he closed his eyes and fought for control over his floundering senses.

A touch brought him back.

It was warm and gentle, paired with an inquisitive coo from the child. The Mandalorian opened his eyes and looked with his unmasked features at the small thing. It blinked at him wonderingly, taking in his unkempt hair and stubble-roughed jaw.

“Hey kid,” he murmured, tugging his gloves off. He was already unmasked so one more piece of his armor wouldn’t matter much.

The child toddled towards him, its small body colliding against his outreached hands in a bundle of warmth and thin bones and fuzzy skin. He stroked the top of its head and it made a chortling noise, rounded cheeks pulling up in happiness.

He’d never felt so loved.

“This is me, kid,” the Mandalorian said, the dizziness spinning away and his pulse settling under the weight of the child in his arms. “Not much to look at without the beskar, huh?”

The child laughed and stretched its arms up towards his face, and the Mandalorian bent instinctively. Tiny clawed hands came against his cheeks, its skin soft with infancy and palms sticky.

This time he was the one who laughed quietly, wrapping his arms around the child and holding it tight. It nestled against the sensitive skin of his neck, one long ear brushing his cheek and the tip of it tickling his nose.

“I’m gonna do better for you,” the Mandalorian promised, feeling the tiny heartbeat against his palm resting on the child’s back. “I’m sorry for being so terrible at this caretaker thing.”

The child made a sound which the Mandalorian took as both agreement and forgiveness. And then it squirmed out of his grip and clambered onto this shoulder, curious claws inspecting his ear in a tickling exploration. He laughed and reached a hand up to rub the top of it’s head, earning a squeak of annoyance.

“Don’t get used to this,” the Mandalorian said, steadying the child as he got back to his feet.

He sighed as he looked at the scattered beskar plates and the fallen helmet. He felt a small twinge of regret at his actions, but the child was now his and that bonded them. Also, it was a  _ child _ , his child, and in his mind the Way was grayer in that area.

He bent and retrieved his helmet, but he did not put it on. Instead, he rested it on the dash above the control panels as he sat back down in the pilot’s chair. He shifted the child to his lap as he pulled up the map program, scanning for a new hideaway.

“All right, you little womp rat,” the Mandalorian said. “Let’s see how long it takes before another fob-holder comes at us, hmm?”

**Author's Note:**

> totally needed a scene where Mando apologizes to his baby for recklessly abandoning him
> 
> I know it was in the name of providing for him, but a baby needs his dad haha
> 
> also my portrayal of the anxiety attack is pulled from my personal experiences and it's my first time writing something like this  
> so I don't mean to be insensitive or incorrect; I'm just working from how I've felt attacks whenever they've come at me


End file.
